


Resolution

by Selenic



Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s08e01 Spider and the Fly, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenic/pseuds/Selenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Think it’s time I moved on, my loves,” he whispered. “Forgive me, and give me strength.”</p>
<p>Set some time after 8x01 "The Spider and the Fly".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my incredible, wonderful, supportive, and not to mention gifted beta [magdarko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/magdarko/pseuds/magdarko), without whom this story would not be as beautiful, or grammatically correct :) Working with her has been an absolute joy.
> 
> If you feel like it, please leave a comment, either here, or via email to: Selenic76@gmail.com
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> Update: now crossposted [ at Livejournal](http://selenic76.livejournal.com/5494.html)

 

Resolution

 

It was over.

He’d thought so years ago after shooting Hernandez, but Gibbs’ past had a habit of haunting him. The past months had proved that some ghosts were more persistent than others. But now with Paloma Reynosa dead, Alejandro Rivera arrested, and Abby’s report on the murder of Hernandez conveniently ‘lost’, it seemed that the matter could finally be put to rest.

The pain Gibbs felt, however, was not lessened by the fact. But it would pass.

With the small wooden box retrieved from its hiding place in the bedroom, Gibbs walked downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Setting the box down, he gently ran his fingers over the surface, letting the familiar feel of it soothe him.

Opening the lid revealed the topmost note, the one that held the latest addition to his set of rules: a reminder that even Gibbs was not infallible. Beneath it lay a picture of Shannon and Kelly, edges worn by the fingers that had held it so many times since their death.

Gibbs picked it up, and for a moment, smiled. They looked so beautiful. And in his memories, they always would—nothing could change that. But time had changed Gibbs.

“Think it’s time I moved on, my loves,” he whispered. “Forgive me, and give me strength.”

He hadn’t cried in a long time, but just for tonight, for the moment, Gibbs allowed himself the luxury.

Then he descended into the basement, and started working.

 

~~~

 

The sun had barely risen when Tony parked in front of Gibbs’ house. Sitting in the car he stared at the front door, hoping this was the right thing to do. This wasn’t the first time, most likely not the last either, that he’d been here like this, trying to decide whether to walk in or just drive away.

He was tired. Abby had called around two in the morning, worried about Gibbs. Not that Tony had been sleeping either. After a few hours of talking and going through recent events, Abby had calmed down a little. Still she’d made Tony promise he’d go to see Gibbs first thing in the morning. And Tony had promised, because like Abby, he worried. It might have surprised some, but Tony actually felt quite protective of Gibbs.

The Reynosa incident had bothered his boss deeply, that much was obvious; not only because of the threat it had posed to his father and the members of his team, but also by bringing back memories of the death of his family. Anything concerning that part of Gibbs’ life always made Tony keep a closer eye on his boss.

When light had finally begun to creep up the horizon, Tony had decided he might as well get to work early, and check up on Gibbs, who’d no doubt be up already anyway. Sometimes Tony doubted if Gibbs ever slept, considering the amount of caffeine he ingested daily.

He sighed and got out of the car, shivering in the cool morning air and wondering how he should handle things. Gibbs wasn’t the type to talk about his troubles; he was a man of few words even when in a good mood. So it was a good thing that over the years Tony had learned a trick or two about reading him through other means. He’d need them.

Reaching the entrance, he knocked lightly on the decorative glass pane, but got no answer. Knowing Gibbs usually kept the door unlocked, Tony slowly opened it and stepped in.

“Hey, boss, you home?” he called out as he closed the door behind him. “It’s just me, so don’t shoot.” No response. That of course meant nothing—Gibbs was stubborn enough to remain silent if he so wished. But Tony was determined.

He stepped into the living-room, and found it dark and empty. There was a faint wooden smell in the air, mixing with the stronger scent of coffee. Turning towards the light coming from the kitchen revealed Gibbs sitting at the end of the table, sipping from a mug. His worn t-shirt and jeans were speckled with wood chippings and sawdust; Gibbs had been working on something again. That at least was a good sign: it meant he hadn’t been sitting here mourning all night.

“Thought I might find you awake,” Tony remarked as he walked up to Gibbs. “Abby’s worried, you’ve been hard to reach.” There was tension in Gibbs’ shoulders, the kind he got when a case was going badly, and he gripped his mug just a little too tightly. It appeared to contain just coffee, no bourbon. Or at least the bottle was nowhere in sight.

“Been busy,” Gibbs replied absently, without looking up from a photo he was holding: a beautiful red-haired woman and a young girl, both smiling happily. In contrast to the mug, this was held with a delicate hand.

_Shannon and Kelly. Of course._

There were more pictures and some notes on the table, but Tony dismissed them for now and concentrated on Gibbs.

“Building another boat, boss?” Tony asked casually, while removing his coat. He folded it over a nearby empty chair, thinking some caffeine might do him some good as well.

“Birdhouses,” Gibbs told him wearily. Another sip of coffee, not even a glance at Tony.

Tony set his hands on the back of the chair, quietly watching Gibbs. Staring at the silver-grey head, he could only guess at the thoughts moving inside it, but Tony had a notion of the general theme. There was sawdust even in Gibbs’ hair.

“Birdhouses?” Tony prompted. “Never seen you do those before.” And he’d never seen his boss so distracted either. For a man who took note of things for a living, and expertly so, this was strange. Or as Abby had put it, Gibbs had been acting hinky.

They’d all noticed it. Gibbs had been unusually reluctant to take charge of the case they were in the middle of, leaving the team to pretty much manage on their own. His mind had clearly been preoccupied with something.

“Calms me down,” Gibbs said at last. “Usually.” And something in his voice made Tony very nervous. He heard Gibbs sigh deeply, and saw how the picture was gently set on the table. But Gibbs still kept looking at it.

Suddenly Gibbs lifted his eyes, and focused on Tony. And like a blow to the chest, it took Tony’s breath away.

He’d never forget how Gibbs looked; so defenceless and tired, and there was something in his eyes that was very painful, and very private. Tony had no right to be witnessing this.

Lowering his head, knuckles white from grabbing the chair so tight, Tony tried to breathe. __

_Damn damn damn! Well you wanted to see if he was alright, and he damn well isn’t._ __

What was he supposed to do now? Tony could still sense Gibbs’ eyes on him.

“You look like crap, DiNozzo,” Gibbs commented abruptly, with welcomed rudeness. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen. Get some and sit down.” It was not a request.

“On it, boss,” Tony reflexively replied, relieved that Gibbs sounded slightly more like his usual grumpy self. And relieved to be heading for the kitchen, legs moving on automatic.

Tony fumbled around the fridge and cupboards, carefully taking his time. Gibbs always drank his tarry brew black, and Tony was well aware that he had little hope of finding any milk or sugar. But he looked for them anyway, because he needed time to get a grip on himself, and so did Gibbs. His boss must’ve been through a whole range of emotions during the night.

Though Gibbs could handle a lot, more than most, Tony knew there was also this other side to him; even for Gibbs there were times when he lost his balance.

Ever since the memory loss, Tony had quietly taken on the duty of watching over Gibbs. The slightest suspicion of something being wrong and Tony would be there: following him around during the day, despite the angry glares he got, and laying awake at night, his cell phone close by, just in case—if not parked outside Gibbs’ house, deliberating. Sometimes he’d find some excuse to pop in, they’d have a few beers, maybe watch a game, and after seeing Gibbs was fine, Tony would tactfully make his exit. But this was different.

Still, Gibbs hadn’t driven Tony out. Maybe he actually wanted some company?

Tony heard no more sighs, so he allowed himself to relax a bit, and the now completed thorough search had helped him sort out his thoughts: as much as Gibbs hated people fussing about him, right now he really needed not to be alone, and Tony wouldn’t let him.

Finding a mug had been easy, spartan as the kitchen was, but as predicted it had proved to be short on anything that might make the coffee more palatable. Returning with a steaming mug, the contents black and bitter, he found Gibbs standing over the table, leafing through the mess in search of something. Tony sat down, and that’s when the wooden box caught his eye.

It was open, and empty. He blamed the lack of sleep for not seeing it before, or what was actually on the table. Notes and photos were strewn all over it, haphazardly covering the surface; more family pictures, and dozens of little pieces of paper, different kinds and sizes, with numbers and...

_The rules? Those are the actual rules?_

He knew them well, the time working for Gibbs having engraved them into Tony’s mind, but he’d never imagined that Gibbs would have them written down like this. For a moment Tony forgot his mission, and led by his insatiable curiosity, leaned forward until he began to distinguish words.

_#7: Always be specific when you lie, #39: There is no such thing as coincidence..._

All of them written in Gibbs’ familiar hand. As Gibbs moved things around, one set of words stood out from the chaos.

_#5: You don't waste good._

The first rule Gibbs ever told him. Tony smiled widely, remembering the time he’d heard it.

_The first head slap, when I joined NCIS. Gibbs told me I was good._

His hand automatically moved to rub a spot on the back of his head; it tingled slightly with the memory. He heard Gibbs laugh briefly; he must have noticed the gesture, and guessed what he was thinking. It was good to hear him laugh.

Forcing his attention back to the present situation, Tony watched from the corner of his eye as Gibbs’ brow furrowed, his target still eluding him.

“Wanna talk about this?” Tony cautiously attempted to strike up a conversation, sipping at the hot drink and wincing after each mouthful. He suspected a curt denial would spoil his plan.

“Nope,” Gibbs replied as expected, as he picked up one particular slip of paper and sat back down. “But I should.”

This caught Tony by surprise. Deciding he might risk a peek at Gibbs, Tony found the blue eyes already waiting for him. His expression was more composed this time, the look in Gibbs’ eyes even oddly warm. But there was still a tense air about him.

“Here,” Gibbs said and offered the selected note to Tony. Hesitantly, Tony reached out and took it.

It was torn from one of those notebooks Gibbs always carried around, and even had ‘Naval Criminal Investigative Service’ and ‘investigation notebook’ printed on it in capital letters. The rule written on it had recently been circled, several times, to emphasize its importance.

_#13: Never, ever involve a lawyer._

“You wanna talk about lawyers?” Tony asked, a bit baffled, but grinning. “I’m game if you are.” He’d take any topic, if it got Gibbs talking.

Gibbs actually laughed longer this time, and a look that Tony couldn’t entirely decipher crossed his face. Tony got the feeling that Gibbs wanted to tell him something, but he’d no doubt have to wait around a bit before finding out what.

“Flip it,” Gibbs snapped, sounding irritated, but there was still an amused undertone to his voice.

Turning the note over, Tony found something unexpected. A new rule.

_#51: Sometimes—you're wrong._

He read it over and over again, part of him waiting for his eyes to correct the mistake his mind was sure they were making, but the words remained. This certainly was a new side to Gibbs, and an intriguing one too. But why was he showing this to him? Tony gulped down his coffee, ignoring the flavour for the benefit of the caffeine.

Gibbs remained silent, waiting for Tony to say something. His thumb kept rubbing the edge of the mug, a subtle indication that a lot was still going on behind the scenes, even if Gibbs appeared calm.

“Wrong about what?” Tony finally asked, carefully setting his mug down on an empty space among the notes and photos, and the new rule next to it. It just felt too weird to hold it.

“Probably more things than I’d care to admit,” Gibbs told him frankly, and finished his coffee while Tony studied him with growing interest.

Gibbs put his mug down, and picked up the picture again. He studied it intently, taking in every detail as if afraid he might forget them.

“It was Shannon’s idea,” Gibbs began slowly. Tony let him take his time. “She said everyone needed a code they can live by, so I wrote mine down.” Gibbs smiled briefly. “She laughed ‘cause the rules weren’t in any order.”

It was easy to see how much Gibbs had loved Shannon. He never spoke of anyone with such warmth.

“She and Kelly were my life,” Gibbs said quietly. “After them, all I had left were the memories, and the rules.” A trace of the earlier tiredness shadowed his face for a moment.

Watching Gibbs, it dawned on Tony just how much trust was placed in him right now. Gibbs rarely let anyone close; he hated every intrusion into his privacy. Sharing all this, with Tony of all people...

They had on many occasions put their lives into each others’ hands, but somehow this went beyond that. This was deeply personal. Tony felt awkward and honoured at the same time.

In a low voice, talking perhaps more to the picture than Tony, Gibbs told him about Mexico and Hernandez, about Mike Franks and joining NIS. How at NCIS his life took shape around solving cases and training probies. It was a good life, in many respects. And how in the people he worked with, Gibbs eventually found what in three broken marriages he had failed to: a family. Tony listened without interrupting, while the sunlight slowly crept in, painting the dimly lit room with gold.

“I thought I’d moved on,” Gibbs said sullenly, “but I was still stuck, looking for something that didn’t exist anymore.” He might have sounded bitter, but Tony sensed Gibbs’ only regret was having hurt, with or without intent, the people he cared about.

“Doesn’t mean you’re wrong,” Tony said softly, hoping he’d picked the right words. “Just human.” Maybe nothing was right for this kind of moment, but neither was silence.

Slowly, his eyes still fixed on it, Gibbs once again set the picture down, but this time it looked like he was letting go of something much heavier than a mere photograph.

“No,” Gibbs said at last. “Means I’ve gotta let the past be the past. They’d want me to.” And with those words, Gibbs closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and finally seemed to relax. Tony watched his whole countenance change, in a strangely slow process; as if one by one, each muscle in Gibbs’ body realized that a weight they’d been so used to carrying had suddenly been removed. Tony could have sworn Gibbs even looked years younger.

When Gibbs opened his eyes again, they had regained their usual steely blue determination. Then he turned to look at Tony, and for a while did nothing else, studying him like he was seeing Tony for the first time. There was a contemplating look on his face.

“Got plans for tonight, DiNozzo?” he asked, almost casually, just like he might on any normal day. Tony took this as his cue to make an exit. He was glad that Gibbs had managed to make some kind of peace with his past, but it might be better to let him have some time for himself, before heading for the office. No way would Gibbs take a day of, even after something like this.

He just couldn’t shake the regretful thought, that no matter how much he was trusted, this was how things would always end, with him leaving.

“Nothing much, boss,” Tony answered, putting on his trademark smile. “Wanna grab a few beers and pizza after work?” Wouldn’t still be a bad idea to stop by in the evening. Just in case. “Or maybe some Chinese? I think we had pizza last time, from that new place, what’s it called...” He rambled on as he stood up. He was already going for his coat, when a hand grabbed his arm.

A quick look at Gibbs revealed nothing but that no-nonsense look he always had. Tony could feel the warmth of the fingers through his suit; their hold was firm, but only to the point of asking him to stay.

“You date men too, don’t ya?” Gibbs asked out of the blue, although it was more like a statement than a question.

It took a few confusing seconds for the words to sink in, and a few more until Tony realized that this was Gibbs he was talking to: the man had probably known all along. Not that he’d ever said or done anything to let on. In many ways Gibbs treated everyone equally: he never cared about things like race, beliefs, or sexual orientation, as long as you were a decent person. Cross him, and he’d be equal in his anger as well.

_So why bring up the subject now, boss?_

“It’s not exactly a state secret, though it’s—been a while,” Tony slowly replied in the end. The fingers around his arm had not moved. “The job doesn’t leave much time for any kind of dating.”

“How ‘bout me?” the question was delivered Gibbs style, with as few words as possible, but the effect was nothing short of breathtaking. If Tony had been at a loss for words earlier, now he found it hard to form a coherent thought.

It had sounded like Gibbs was serious. He certainly kept _looking_ at Tony like he was serious, expectant eyes staring up into his.

“You askin’, boss?” was all Tony managed to say through his astonishment.

_What is going on in that head of yours, Leroy Jethro Gibbs?_

“Thought I just did,” Gibbs insisted, gently pulling Tony closer, arm wrapping around his waist, so that soon Tony had no choice but to fall sideways into his lap. “So?”

The situation should have felt strange: actually, it should have felt downright ridiculous, considering Tony was sitting in the lap of a man he could hardly remember even hugging. But as he watched sawdust settle on his suit, he found the position to be oddly comfortable. And he liked it. Regardless, some kind of explanation was required.

“What happened to rule number twelve?” Tony demanded, despite the smile that kept tugging at the corners of his mouth. “As I recall, you’ve always been extremely adamant about it.”

“I still am. It’s a damn good rule,” Gibbs countered evenly. “Just putting it under revision.”

And that was obviously the end of that discussion. They were Gibbs’ rules.

Tony had no objections; if his sexuality was no secret, then neither were his feelings. Tony was no teenager with a crush, but it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out that he felt more than just respect or concern for Gibbs. According to Abby, it was practically written all over him. Tony had just always assumed that Gibbs didn’t mind or care, as long as it didn’t affect work.

Rule twelve aside, Tony had long ago resigned himself to one-sided affection. Hard to think otherwise, when Gibbs never indicated he was anything but as straight as the two-by-fours in his basement.

“Why me then?” Tony had to ask. “Not that I resent the idea in any way, but honestly, I’m not your usual type, boss. You know, red hair, nice legs, preferably female?”

Even as he thoroughly enjoyed this rare moment of closeness, and the new possibilities it hinted at, Tony was unsure if Gibbs was ready to begin any kind of relationship, let alone with him.

“Because,” was all Gibbs said, and never had one word tried to express so much. Often a single word from Gibbs would have sufficed, but not this time. If they were to start something here, Tony wanted— _needed_ —to hear the extended version.

“Maybe you need to think about this some more, boss,” Tony sighed. He should leave now, and let Gibbs sort out the rest of his head. He tried to stand up, and as a result the hold around him tightened, not letting him go.

“Because,” Gibbs repeated softly, meeting his eyes with nothing but honesty. “I’ve thrown a lot of crap at you, some deserved and some not, and I’m probably not gonna change.” He ran a gentle hand into Tony’s hair, and Tony gave in and leaned into its warmth. “Damned if I know why, but you still seem to think I’m worth spending nights in your car across the street.”

_Ah, he noticed._

“Because I’ve known since yesterday it’d be you walking through my door,” Gibbs told him. “Every time you came around, I wanted to ask you. Always ended up convincing myself it wouldn’t work. And it wouldn’t have, with the past still chained to me.”

His hand moved to touch the back of Tony’s head, gingerly stroking the curve of it. “You deserved to be with someone who’s free to be yours. And now I am.” Deep affection coloured his eyes, and Tony could already see the coming words in their blue.

“Because I love you, Tony.”

Then Gibbs pulled Tony closer, and placed a very soft, brief kiss on his lips, and there was a wonderfully hesitant first time feel about it.

Nothing else could have proved as effectively, that Gibbs had meant what he’d said.

Tony couldn’t stop a stupidly happy smile from spreading across his face. It made Gibbs smile as well, even his eyes were smiling, and happiness really suited the man. Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Then, yes.” Tony gave his answer softly. “I’ll date ya.” Then he slowly bent down and kissed Gibbs, tentatively, and as he felt him respond, led him into a slow pleasurable dance of warm lips, wet tongues, and quiet moans. Perfect in every way.

“Mmmh, you’re good,” Tony mumbled as he pulled away, flushed and panting.

“Just so you know,” Gibbs murmured in a low voice, grinning, “I don’t put out on a first date.” Tony was pleased to notice that under his thigh, some part of Gibbs disagreed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss, your ass is safe,” Tony laughed, and kissed Gibbs briefly. If only the morning wasn’t so far along...

“Speaking of which...” Reluctantly Tony got up, and dusted most of the sawdust of his suit. “You should drag it to work, or the others will come looking for you. And if Abby sees _this_ ,” Tony pointed at the photos. “She’s going to think you’ve spent the whole night moping, and there’ll be no end to the hugs.”

He reached for his coat, and had barely finished throwing it on, when Gibbs got up and wrapped his arms around him, crushing Tony to his chest.

“Something wrong with hugs, DiNozzo?” he said quietly, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“No, boss,” Tony whispered, and let his arms reach around to hold Gibbs, hands gently stroking the warm, cotton covered back. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Slow?” Gibbs breathed against his neck with a questioning voice. “Don’t wanna fuck this up.” And it was probably the most vulnerable Tony had ever heard him.

“Slow is good,” Tony reassured him, smiling quietly. Then he grinned, and grabbed Gibbs’ ass. “This, now, work!” he commanded in a Gibbs-like tone. Gibbs pulled away laughing.

“On it, boss,” he retorted in an imitation of Tony’s voice, before heading towards the hallway and upstairs, to hit the shower. “Meet me here after work!” Gibbs called out on the way. “You bring food, I’ve got tools!”

“Tools? You have some special plans I should prepare for, boss?” Tony shouted back but got no answer; all he heard was a short laugh, and then the muffled sound of a door closing.

“He’s gonna make me build something, isn’t he...” Tony mumbled. Well, he could try. “Guess we’ll find out if I really am good with my hands...”

Tony stood in place for awhile, feeling a little light-headed.

Then he returned to the table, searching, turning over notes, until he found it. Fishing a pen from his pocket, Tony made some corrections. Glancing at the table, he saw the picture of Shannon and Kelly. They looked happy, smiling in the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, ladies, I’ll do my best to make him happy,” he promised them, as he placed the appropriately altered note next to them. “Because I love him too.”

_Who knows. We’ve known each other longer than many marriages last— should count in our favour._

As good a start as any.

Walking to the door, Tony heard the sound of the shower, and wondered if he should go and take a peek, but decided against it. There was no rush. Going out, he closed the door, and welcomed the sunny new day.

 

~~~

 

After a while, Gibbs came down the stairs, dried, dressed and ready. He was tired, but at the same time, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Gibbs strode into the kitchen, intending to return the memories to the box, and the box to where it belonged. But something was out of place.

Next to the picture, lay his note for rule number twelve, with some new additions. He should have been angry, but found that he didn’t want to. Gibbs could only marvel at Tony’s way of solving problems.

“I think you’d approve, Shannon.”

Sometimes, the simplest solution was the best.

 

#12: Never date a co-worker  
unless they make you happy.

 

 

~~~ End ~~~

 


End file.
